The Only Way
by emalizabeth
Summary: "I'm not sorry." Perhaps she is a pirate looking out for her own selfish gains, but a future of guilt doesn't appeal to Elizabeth Swann. At least dying with Jack Sparrow is an adventure worthy of her story books. (Or, the AU where Jack gets a companion in the locker.) AWE AU
1. Prologue, or A Voyage Closed and Done

_Guilt. Disgust. Fear. Righteousness._

That's what Elizabeth felt, amidst the wreckage and death and despair the Kraken wreaked on the Pearl. Her boot slipped in a bit of gristle—whether it was once part of a fellow crew member or an oversized tentacle, she did not know—and a fire nearby was licking its way across the deck, uncomfortably warm and tall.

Jack's lips moved against her own, his teeth cutting at her bottom lip before his tongue followed to soothe it. Her next step forward was unsteady, and she gripped at Jack's coat, his hair, pushing him back as she advanced on him. Her legs trembled and her pulse thrummed more strongly than it ever had as she kissed him.

She knew he felt it, but Jack made no move to pull her closer or push her away. From her, he took what he was given.

 _I always knew you were a good man._

Her left hand strayed down to his right, and she gripped it tightly in silent apology. Jack returned the touch with a squeeze and a flick of his tongue, and Elizabeth withdrew, returning both of her hands to the sturdy wall of his chest. She used them to push until she felt him jolt, his back making contact with the mast, and with another tilt of the head and press of the lips, she shackled him to it.

She could feel the disgust rising in her throat like bile as he looked down at her, resignation and pride and an iota of sorrow mixing on his face.

"It's after you, not the ship. It's not us." She spoke desperately, willing him to understand. "This is the only way, don't you see? I'm not sorry."

 _"Pirate."_

The fondness in his expression, the understanding and acceptance she found there, became Elizabeth's undoing. He had her measure, and she felt that she would choke on her guilt. The look in his eyes spoke endlessly to her. Swallowing, glancing to Gibbs, she shook her head and leaned forward again, as if to distract him with a kiss, but found herself incapable of it.

"I'm not leaving you."

At that, his face became a slate wiped clean of emotion, and Jack finally touched her, grabbing her arm tightly.

"Lizzie."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, setting her determination in her features, and "No, Jack. I'm not— You cannot make me leave."

The Pearl began to shudder, and Jack's hand shook on her arm for a bare second. He jangled the chains around the mast at her, but pulled her closer as tentacles began to rise above the deck.

"If you're going stay behind to guard me, then I see no need for your pretty irons, eh?"

Another half-minute and a struggle with the shackle, and Jack was freed, handing her a dagger from his boot as the Kraken surfaced with a bellow. Despite the gravity of it all, Elizabeth had to chuckle grimly at the—filthy, terrifying, hilarious, unbelievable, improbable—situation. Dark, kohl-lined eyes glanced her way, and he took up her hand again as they prepared for the beast in front of them.

 _We're not free yet, love._

All that Elizabeth knew next was pain.

* * *

Such are the things that come into being when you read a little too much meta about the kiss on tumblr! (Feel free to find me at .com.) I don't know where this story will take us, but it's bound to be interesting and feedback is appreciated greatly on the journey.


	2. One

"Wake up. Wake up, wake up, _wake up."_

Elizabeth came to with the sound low muttering in her ear. She jolted and gasped, panic fluttering in her chest, but the Kraken was gone, like the suffocating stench and teeth tearing into her flesh—wounds that no mortal could survive—had never existed at all.

Hands squeezed her shoulders. "That's right, come back to ol' Jack..."

"Jack." Her voice was hoarse, and her throat ached with thirst. She blinked, but squeezed her eyes shut soon after, blinded by bright light.

"Elizabeth."

Elizabeth ached as consciousness returned to her, bringing with it an awareness of her situation. The Kraken had eaten her. She had brandished a dagger no longer than the flat of her hand at a giant squid, held onto Jack like he was a lifeline tossed out to sea, and died. Five years ago, Elizabeth would have been breathless at the very thought of such an adventurous end, but its reality was quickly eating away at her teenage self's romantic inclinations.

She never considered what happened after the stories ended.

With the bitterness of regret on her tongue, she opened her eyes to the whitest light she had ever seen.

"We..." She drank up the sight of Jack as her eyes adjusted. His long hair hung around his face as he peered down at her, but did little to block the harsh sunlight from his features. To her relief, he was whole and uninjured, a far cry from her last memory of him. She shuddered to remember it, but knew it was seared into her mind: Captain Jack Sparrow covered in grime, drawing his sword and baring his teeth as he fought to the last, every inch the legend she read about as a child.

Shaking the thought away, she pushed one of his dreadlocks out of her face. His eyes flickered, but Elizabeth paid it no heed. "We're dead."

"Good and dead, luv." Jack grimaced, gold teeth glinting at her in the light. "Due in no small measure, 'f course, to _you."_

Beneath Jack's tone lurked something dark and dangerous, but she chose to feign ignorance of it, turning her head to take her first look at the dry, empty, white desert that surrounded them.

"...Oh, _God."_

"Can't say 'm all too pleased with the situation as we find ourselves in it either, but He's not going to help us out anytime soon." He sat back on his heels, still watching her. "Welcome to Davy Jones' Locker, Lizzie."

Horror sunk into in Elizabeth's gut like a leaden stone as she pushed herself up on her elbows. Beyond the deck of the Pearl, the white stretch of land bore no hint of other life, not even water. The air was blazingly hot, dry, and unforgiving. She swallowed hard and shook her head at the thought of eternity on a ship inexplicably stranded in the desert.

"I didn't think..."

"Weren't considering the afterlife when you chained me to my ship, eh?" A smirk twisted up the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were more serious than Elizabeth had ever seen them. "Didn't think it was real?"

"Jack, I—" _I'm sorry. I didn't think it was. I didn't know how much it would hurt. I didn't imagine_ this _. I was planning to leave you, not follow you. I didn't think I would end up here._

A sharp look from Jack silenced those thoughts. Tilting her head, she attempted to affect the teasing bite she used to use with him, but her response was more subdued than she desired. "I thought we would be in separate circles of hell, at the very least."

"Ah, yes. Betrayers and mutineers go to the deepest level."

Elizabeth flinched. "Is it really a betrayal if I stayed behind?"

"Semantics, luv." With one long, somber look, Jack stood, tugging the cuffs of his coat to straighten them. "For example, this isn't hell. Surely the crew told you all manner of tales about the locker."

Nodding, Elizabeth followed suit, swaying unsteadily on her feet. Black spots marred her vision, and she swallowed back bile. Her post-mortem journey to the locker, apparently, had not left her completely unscathed.

The last of the anger melted from his face, and Jack jerked his head in the direction of the officer's quarters. "Go sleep. 'S not like we have anything pressing to do, 'n dying is more tiresome than I remember."

"Jack..."

A shake of his head silenced her as he turned on a heel and walked toward his own cabin, a bit more unsteady on his feet than usual. Elizabeth understood.

She was dismissed.

 **xXx**

 _Lips on hers, the scratch of a beard, hands pushing her back._

 _Falling into the ocean. Not the ocean. The beast. The maw. The teeth._

 _Tearing and breaking, a leg giving way. An arm being severed at the shoulder._

 _A knife lodged in flesh; a final, worthless stab at revenge._

 _Darkness._

 _Guilt._

 **xXx**

Elizabeth woke abruptly, and the terror churning in her stomach and crawling up her throat made it feel as if she had never slept at all. The small lamp in the corner was still lit, indicating that she hadn't been asleep for very long, and she sighed. Curling up on the small berth built into the side of the ship, she took stock of her small space, weighing its claustrophobic darkness against the wide, white sea of sand outside.

The officer's quarters were minuscule, but they offered privacy and a door with a lock. Gibbs vacated the space for her use when she joined the crew in Tortuga, and at the time Elizabeth had felt inordinately lucky to escape the wandering eyes and cramped hammocks in the crew's quarters. She always suspected that James and Jack were truly the ones to thank for it; James made no small fuss when Elizabeth ventured into the crew's quarters that first night, and Gibbs left his room with a grumbling that only ever followed one of his superior officers' orders. She had rolled her eyes at the memory of her passage from England, and James evidently remembered it too as he escorted her in, to some protest.

 _'Bad luck to have a woman on a ship.' The fact that you are no longer miniature must only be compounding his worries._

Elizabeth almost smiled, hearing the teasing cadence of James's voice in her mind. He always spoke to her in the same proper, stilted lilt, but he had never joked with her like that when they were courting. She had smiled at him then—a bit bitter, but followed by a little laugh—and he had looked so surprised to get such a reaction from her.

Soon after he turned and left her alone in the dark, much like she was now, but the sensation was far from the pleasant cocoon she remembered and more similar to a coffin than she would have liked.

Carefully, she unfolded herself and made the three-step journey across the room, blowing out the lamp as she left. The desert, at least, did not remind her of the esophagus of a Kraken.

The sun-baked deck burned her bare feet as she resurfaced, so she stuck to what shadows she could find beside the gunwale and under the masts. It was only when she rounded the main mast that she found Jack staring at the ground beside it, and for a moment she was frightened that he might be reliving their final moments.

"Sun hasn't moved."

Elizabeth stared, guilt-thick relief flooding her veins. "What?"

"The sun. It's not moving."

"So... time."

"'S not changing."

"We're stuck in a sunny waste forever." She nodded. That seemed like something Davy Jones would do to torment those in his debt.

Jack quirked an unamused eyebrow at her neutral tone, clearly expecting more of a reaction. "You condemned yourself, luv."

"I know."

He didn't reply immediately. Instead, with a glance to her feet, he led the way through the shadows to the steps they used to sit on to talk, setting himself down beside a bottle of rum and patting the space beside him. _"You_ were supposed to be sleeping."

"I thought you were going to sleep, too."

Jack's lips turned down in a familiar petulant frown, and Elizabeth had to fight her first true grin since she died at the sight of it. "Someone's got to keep watch 'round here, lest we be ambushed by locker beasties of similar magnitude of that which killed us. Captain's orders were sleep, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth snorted. "Night terror. You?"

 _"Night terror...?"_ The frown deepened, and Jack took a swig from the bottle, holding it out to Elizabeth afterward. "For ol' times sake...?"

Elizabeth wiped off the lip of the bottle and drank, choking slightly on the burn of rum; it was stronger and rougher than what Jack usually shared with her.

"Had my tongue in that mouth not five hours ago, Lizzie. Kind of useless now."

A nudge, bordering on a kick, of Jack's shin silenced him, and Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't think we'll have enough rum on this ship to drown out the terrors forever, will we?"

"Only what little escaped dear William's grand plan to blow the sea beastie to bits. Two weeks, at most." He leaned closer. "Now, about this terror..."

"I've had them since I was a little girl, Jack. Between our recent, gruesome death and the small, dark hole I sleep in on this ship, they have likely returned for good." Another sip burned Elizabeth again, but she was prepared and held her breath for a few moments to until it faded. She wasn't sure whether the last several hours of her existence or the rum prompted her eyes to begin watering, but she quickly blinked back the tears, pressing the cuff of her shirt covertly to her eyes.

Jack said nothing and liberated the bottle from her grasp. He took a long drink, his brow wrinkling beneath his bandana as he thought.

"You're welcome to my cabin, luv."

 _"Jack!"_

Elizabeth reached for the rum again, intent on smashing the bottle over Jack's head in her indignant rage, but he pulled away and shuffled down the steps before she could, moving into a sunny spot. She glared at the deck beneath his feet, cursing her casual disregard of her boots, and crossed her arms.

"'M not going t'be sleeping much, tha's all I mean. 'S long as you don't mind me coming in and out every now and then, the bed is all yours, Elizabeth. Cabin's got windows, 's big, won't feel dark or small in there if this sun never sets."

She raised an incredulous brow. "...You're sure."

"Certain."

"I _killed_ you."

His lips pursed at that and his gaze darkened, but he offered the rum to her again. "Killed yourself too."

"Fine."

Jack's expression morphed into the infuriating, self-satisfied grin he always affected whenever he won an argument with her. "Fine. Now, it's too bloody hot for a bonfire 'n I'm not burning down me ship, but let's see if we can't get you to dance again, eh?"


	3. Two

I was busy traveling through Europe for the past couple of weeks, so please forgive the short update and long wait! Much more is on the way for our Locker dwellers.

Trigger warning: suicide.

* * *

Hours later, Jack was reclining in the plush chair at his desk, staring over the charts in front of him at the woman in his bed. Lizzy slept fitfully, her brow scrunched, indicating that her dreams were not peaceful despite their joint efforts. He twisted the braided ends of his beard as he watched her; the murderess had free access to his cabin and his limited supply of rum, and he didn't once think that she might not deserve his kindness.

Jack sighed.

He would have stayed behind without her trickery. He would have died for Elizabeth Swann for far less than a kiss. Had that not been clear when he made no move to help load the longboat? Didn't she think he was a _good man_ in those last moments? Jack snorted at that. Of course _goodness_ and _kindness_ led to this. Goodness had never served him well before.

Of course, a far lesser part of him did not wish to see his crew or Bootstrap's son die fighting a battle that wasn't their own, but he could have buried that guilt more easily. His crew knew what they signed on for, and William probably would have died the noble death by his dear fiancée's side that he practically foamed at the mouth for when Jack first met him.

 _Fiancée_. She wasn't even his, and he still would have died for her. Selfishly, because he was certain that Will and Norrington had never died for the girl, but no one else needed to know the underlying motivation.

Funny, the way she seemed to make martyrs of her admirers.

 _Gods, that kiss— What would a kiss of real gratitude feel like, coming from her?_

He took another swig of rum and tried not to think of the dwindling supply.

xXx

 _She was sprawled atop his sheets, dozing lazily in the muted sunshine. Fully clothed, but a perfect picture of the pirate Jack imagined her to be on the rum runners' isle._

 _"You killed me." His words were low, more a statement than an accusation. It was the same conversation from earlier, but now she was halfway through a bottle of rum._

 _Her response was slow and slurred, but immediate. "You left us."_

 _"...That I did, love."_

 _"An' I was angry."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"You left me for the Kraken, 'nd I thought you were a good man."_

 _"I came back, did I not?"_

 _"After you left."_

"Pirate."

 _Lizzy sighed miserably, and Jack's eyebrows shot up beneath his bandana, his eyes darting to her face. He expected to find something less heart-wrenching and altogether more delightful than the sadness etched into her features, but there it was. The downward curve of her pretty lips, her coffee-eyes scrunched shut, her brows pulled together—all spoke of a conflict greater than Jack necessarily wished to comprehend, so soon after dying._

 _"'M so sorry, Jack."_

 _They were quiet for a long moment. The anger underneath Jack's breastbone burned too hotly to accept her apology, but her rather voluntary presence in the Locker muted it enough to prevent a scathing reply._

 _"Why did you come back? Were you going to stay?"_

 _"Why chain me to the mast? Why commit suicide?"_

 _They were silent again, and soon Elizabeth turned over, pulled the quilt up around her chin, and fell asleep._

xXx

Suicide had always left a more bitter taste in Jack's mouth than murder. He wondered idly if Elizabeth killed herself to simply assuage her guilt over condemning him, or whether she possessed more pressing issues that he ought to wheedle out of her at some point.

He wouldn't put up with botched suicide attempts—or worse, a successful one—in the meantime. (He shuddered to think of it. Where would she go, if she already suffered in the Locker? Another place in the Locker? Hell? Not any sort of heaven, at this point. And would she heal if she injured herself and didn't die, or just be some?) As much as he truly tried to hate her, the feeling under his skin was closer to angry disappointment than true hatred. If she left him, it would have been much easier to hate her, but he wouldn't spend an eternity driving his only companion to suicide.

 _You are not your father_. The old mantra slithered through his mind, and Jack cringed. He stopped thinking like that after his first run-in with Cutler Beckett.

Wiping the thought from his mind, Jack leaned back and tilted his hat over his eyes. If he couldn't sleep, he would attempt meditation.

Under the brim of the tricorne, his eyes lingered on the woman in his bed.

Yes, he would meditate on the upcoming onslaught of vexation he would face. What was it Tia Dalma said?

 _Changing._

 _Harsh._

 _Untamable as the sea._

If he were lucky, his heart would stay in his chest where it belonged.


End file.
